


daphne

by AppleJuice (capolleon)



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, The Trials of Apollo - Rick Riordan
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, nymph!leo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-18
Updated: 2018-07-09
Packaged: 2019-05-23 23:39:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14943503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/capolleon/pseuds/AppleJuice
Summary: Apparently, someone's dumb enough to shoot Apollo with an arrow. Apparently, said arrow can really screw up a god's life. Who knew?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i've been really sick lately, lol. nevermind that, school is over for me for summer break so :) 
> 
> anyway this is a really interesting thing, that came out of nowhere? i'll tell you my line of thought at the end but idk.
> 
> i'm not even too sure cause this was super random, but mortals/gods/monsters/ etc coexist in the modern world, with the 12 olympians being super well known at THE best, i don't know i'm kind of just rolling with this sooo *shrug*

Wide dark eyes.

The first thought Apollo had was _wow, that’s dark brown_. It's been a while since Apollo's looked into brown eyes, and the sight is refreshing. The second thought is less of a thought and more of a dumbfounded shout of “ _Did you just shoot me in the leg?_ ”

He doesn’t get much of an answer, but a slip of a grin, before the male who had attacked him runs off into the woods. Apollo is left sitting on his behind, one hand loosely on where the arrow shaft stuck out of his right thigh and staring in confusion at the blur that disappeared. He would chase after the boy, but there are more pressing matters at hand.

He doesn’t pull it out but waves his hand to call the attention of one of his muses. Hopefully, one of them will notice his problem and send him up to Olympus.

But still… who would shoot _Apollo_?

Normally, it’s _him_ shooting the arrows. While he supposes that other gods technically still shoot with a bow, and he didn’t exactly have _claim_ on the specific weapon, Apollo would assume that he would never get hit by his own trademark. And yet, here he is with an arrow in his thigh.

He’s not sure what he did to deserve it either. Perhaps one of the nymphs he was flirting with earlier has a suitor? Even so, not many mortals would dare to threaten the god, much less actually _hit_ him. Apollo supposes this must be some suicidal punk in love who is probably currently begging for forgiveness in one of his temples.

He could, perhaps, relate to that (the punk in love part) and give some leniency. But still, threatening a god- one as important as _Apollo_ no less- is a death wish.

The flesh surrounding the wound is starting to tint green, and sweat beads on his forehead. This is not a normal arrow... so not a mortal shooter.

Interesting.

* * *

“Heh, you’re stupid,” Hermes is a jerk and Apollo is furious that he was the god to pick up on his call for help. Apollo hasn’t seen Hermes in months- last he knew, the god was traveling on a cruise to Bermuda- and it seems that in the time that’s passed, Hermes hasn’t changed at all. There’s still the tiny form he chose to take and a backward baseball cap.

“What happened to you, bro?” Hermes flitters over and sits on Apollo’s knee. Despite the fact that he’s the size of a fairy, Hermes still feels heavy. Hermes surveys the wound with curious eyes. “This doesn’t look so good.”

“Go away,” Apollo groans and swats at the pesky god. He lies back in the grass. “Out of all the people…”

“Just trying to help!” Hermes snickers, and Apollo groans again because Hermes is definitely _not_ here to help. He’s never really helpful unless there’s some kind of trick up his sleeve, which Apollo is currently not interested in.

(He might still be a bit mad about the cattle incident. You can’t just take someone’s cows and then make an _instrument_ in return. Which one was going to feed Apollo? Not the lyre, that’s for sure.)

“I don’t want any help.” Apollo stares above. Comforting beams of sunshine peek through the leaves, warming his skin and sending pure energy through Apollo’s veins.

There’s a rustle, and Hermes is now back to his full size. Unfortunately, the baseball cap grew along with him. It's so ugly. Apollo scowls at Hermes’ grin. The trickster god pats his hand on Apollo’s thigh. “Looks like you need help though. What do I do?”

“Just push it through.” Apollo glances at the arrow still sticking out of him. He sighs when his head hits the ground. “I can heal the rest myself.”

“Alright, alright-” Hermes pushes on the arrow, and _gods_ does it _burn_. Apollo jerks up screaming and slaps his hands away. Apollo could feel the arrowhead scrape through his tendons and muscle. He stares at his trembling fingers covered in gold. It actually. It actually _hurt_. Why did it hurt? _How_ could it hurt?

“Whoa!” Hermes' concern peeks through as he catches Apollo before he can fall. “You okay, buddy?”

Apollo can’t speak because _there’s an arrow stuck in his leg and it won’t come out_. He’s one of the gods of medicine so taking out an arrow shouldn’t be a problem. Apollo can heal himself, and it takes a lot to feel pain. Yet, the slightest budge on this _stupid_ thing can make the god want to cut off the limb.

“Oh, man, you don’t look so good,” Hermes states the obvious.

Apollo swallows and swipes his ichor covered hand against his shirt. “Take me home, Herms.”

“Don’t call me that,” Hermes helps Apollo up. He can stand alright, but his right leg might give out in any second. Bright light floods overs them. “Also, are you a ‘take your shoes off at the door’ type of person or-”

They flash out the woods, leaving nature to carry on with its normal schedule.

* * *

His sister calls his phone which is a big surprise. Artemis is a very good sister (sometimes), and she has good advice (sometimes), but she is also very competitive (most of the time) because she is aware that Apollo is the better twin (he is, _all_ the time).

She also hasn’t been around lately, because she claims Apollo is ‘draining’ and ‘pretentious’ so a phone call is a surprise. He just wishes it wasn’t because he’s sick in bed and because she just wanted to catch up. Like normal siblings would. (Not that they’re normal siblings.)

“What did you do?” Artemis has always been direct.

Apollo rolls his eyes and puts the call on speakerphone. He whines. “What makes you think I did something?”

“You’re always doing something.”

“You’re so mean to me, Artie!” Apollo digs through his fridge to pull out fruit. Fruit has always been good to him over the past few centuries, and he hopes their natural vitamins might help with his arrow predicament. It’s been a few days, and the veins on his legs have turned green and the wound is starting to smell odd. Almost like moss. Apollo hasn’t left his loft for fear of humiliation.

“Do not call me that.” Artemis sighs, as Apollo starts scraping grapefruit into a bowl. “Why didn’t you call me earlier?”

Apollo shrugs, forgetting she couldn’t see him. He licks his lips, instead vocalizing the impartial shrug as, “Didn’t think about it. Aren’t you busy saving, like, all the animals in the world?”

“ _No,_ but I am trying to save you from embarrassing yourself-” Ouch, that hurt. Apollo sulks with his spoon in his mouth. “-though, why were you in the forest in the first place?”

“There’s this new club there,” Apollo says. “Some of those river nymphs are very scandalous, Artie. It’s not your style though.”

“You’re ridiculous. Don’t you have sun duties to deal with instead? Prophecies to deliver? People to help heal?”

Apollo carries his bowl of grapefruit with him to the bedroom, balancing his phone between his ear and shoulder. He settles on his bed and flicks the TV on with his finger. “I guess. Do you know if Tyche is still hosting that reality show? I love her catchphrase.”

“Do you want to be healed?” Artemis asks.

Apollo curses when his phone falls from his shoulder and plops onto his pillow. “Not really,” he speaks louder. “It’s like a vacation. No, but seriously- Tyche better still be hosting that thing because her catchphrase is amazing. _May luck be by your side_ , and then she punches the competitor in the face. And people say quality TV is dead.”

Artemis is quiet for a moment. “Are you aware that Zeus is the one who informed me about your situation?”

Apollo’s jaw drops. “What.”

“It’s all over Olympus,” she says casually. “You really must hear Eros and his show- it’s all he’s been talking about this week.”

Crap. If _Zeus_ knew then everyone on Olympus knows. Which is fine- Apollo could deal with a rumor. (He’s been the subject of so many, that it’s hardly a big deal for him.) But if _Eros_ were talking about him, then Apollo and his thigh-arrow have upgraded from rumor to _gossip_. And everyone- god, mortal, monster, or otherwise-  _loves_ gossip. Gossip didn’t exactly go away as easily.

(He blames the earlier rivalry between him and Eros a few months ago, and vows to give the love god a piece of his mind.)

“Anyway, I just thought you’d like to know.” She’s so smug, because she _knows_ what that means to Apollo. He better get the arrow out and _soon_ before the love god requests an interview to further humiliate him. “What color is the fletching?”

Apollo glances at the colorful feathers at the end of the arrow. He had tried snapping the wood in half a day ago, but the wood seemed to be protected by magic. Did he know any magic beings who wanted to attack him?

“Red, why?” Apollo lowers the television’s volume. “It’s unusual, isn’t it?”

Artemis hums. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. I would go to Hephaestus about that, it might be one of his arrows.”

This surprises Apollo. “I didn’t know Heph still made arrows. I thought he was into the whole tech thing.”

“He is, but he does commissions from time to time,” Artemis sounds uncomfortable. “He doesn’t like making _you_ arrows, because you’re loud and he doesn’t like loud.”

“I’m not loud!” Apollo realizes how loud he’s been the entire conversation and grumbles, “not _that_ loud, anyway.”

Artemis laughs- short and sweet. She’s not one for laughing, while Apollo loves laughter. Polar opposites and whatnot. “Talk to him. And make sure you clean your wound so it doesn’t get infected! Goodbye, Apollo.”

Apollo refrains from telling her that his leg has probably been poisoned, and it’s still _green_. “Bye, Artie.”

She hangs up, and Apollo sighs as he pulls up his GPS. Looks like he might have to leave his house after all.

* * *

Despite being so technology-forward, Hephaestus is still a hermit who doesn’t really know how to _use_ his tech.

He fails to pick up his phone after Apollo calls three times. He doesn’t answer any of his texts. Perhaps the guy lost his phone somewhere in his giant mess of a workspace (it’s happened before). Maybe he’s avoiding Apollo (rude).

It seems it might actually be the second reason because when Hephaestus opens the door and sees Apollo standing there in shades and a trench coat, he automatically slams the door.

Unfortunately for him (and for Apollo, it seems), the arrow seems to be sticking out, stopping the door from closing. It jolts in Apollo’s leg and a sharp pain shoots through his body.

“Hello Heph,” Apollo says through a pained grin. He resists the urge to fall over from the aftermath of the arrow movement. And he was doing so good this week, too! His leg had been fine except for when the arrow was moved, to which Apollo managed to quickly find ways of avoiding such an event. “Can I come in?”

“No, I’m fine.” Heph’s voice is low and raspy, and he always sounds like he needs a cough drop (though really everyone’s voice is bad compares to Apollo’s angelic vocal chords). Weirdo. “Nice to see you, you can go now.”

“Tsk tsk,” Apollo pushes the door open. He steps into the dark and messy foyer. “I think it’s kinda urgent, buddy.”

Heph seems to realize that Apollo won’t leave, so he trudges away into the depths of his small house.

Hephaestus’ home is not the same spacious, modern, summer getaway soaking in the sun like Apollo’s house. It’s small and pushed on the border of a suspicious neighborhood and a slightly _less_ sketchy neighborhood. Inside, there are many wires running amok like a jungle of cords, and stained blueprints littering the floors and walls like tiles. Prototypes of gadgets sit haphazardly on counters and table ledges, while the lightbulbs seemed to have been unscrewed and replaced with a more comforting fireplace in every room.

He’s so _weird_.

Apollo peels off his trench coat (it would be a lie if he said he wasn’t a bit afraid of Eros popping up and snatching him away for some pictures of his misfortune), and snaps away his sunglasses.

Heph is in his study, and evidently not alone. Besides the (surprisingly) neatly lined bookshelves, desk, and comfortable looking couches, a small and familiar goddess with a headscarf and a loose dress sits.

Hestia looks up from her mug and smiles softly at Apollo, who beams back. He’s always liked the goddess, who never seemed to be caught up in the glamour of the god life. In fact, Apollo doesn’t see her name mentioned often, and hardly sees her during the annual Olympian meetings for the major gods. Actually… is she still an Olympian? ….Hmm…. Apollo would have to seriously contemplate that later.

Wait, why is she here? As if to sense Apollo’s inner confusion, Hestia whispers something to Hephaestus and leaves the room. She pats Apollo’s shoulder as she passes by. Apollo takes her seat and Heph blushes.

No way. How can _this_ weirdo get some and he can’t? “Are you two… _you_ _know_.” Apollo raises an eyebrow with a smirk. He looks Heph up and down and makes a _Mhm_ noise.

Heph sputters, growing even redder. “No! It’s not like that- she’s, uh, _yeah._ And I’m _… yeah_.”

That makes zero sense to Apollo but he nods along anyway. Might as well make Heph feel like he’s being understood- it’ll only help open him up to a discussion about the arrow later.

Despite what Heph is mumbling about, Apollo supposes he and Hestia might make a good match. While his match-making skills are nowhere near Aphrodite’s (he ought to give the girl a call, they _really_ need to talk about the choker necklace comeback), Apollo still knows a good pairing when he sees one.

Hestia is a bit odd too, so it makes sense for the two to be friends. She’s evidently Muslim, part or whole, Apollo doesn’t really know. He’s not sure how it works, with her being a goddess and everything, but he guesses it’s not an entirely bad thing.

Perhaps she just wants to think of there being a _higher_ being and takes comfort in her own version of God, capital G (Allah, he thinks, which might be the same thing). It’ll be nice to think about- where _do_ gods go when they die (not that gods really die, but that’s a whole other thing to think about). And it’s not like practicing other religions or worshipping other gods is frowned upon, so it’s not any of Apollo’s business.

Regardless, both Hestia and Heph are anti-social and probably do nerdy things together. They probably just do stuff like... sit in silence together. Okay, Apollo has no clue what they like to do. It’s beside the point. While he doesn’t really know them on a personal level, he’s sure they connect on some type of _romantic_ level.

“Wow, that’s great, Heph.” Apollo leans in and rests his elbow on the desk. “So do you think we can talk about the arrow that’s sticking out of my leg?”

Heph lowers his eyes and spins his chair around. When he faces Apollo again, he has his face being covered by a tablet. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Apollo leans forward and lowers the device from Heph’s face. “Oh, but I think you do.”

Heph sinks lower in his chair. He slides his fingers across his tablet screen and one of the bookshelves shift back until it’s replaced by an unlit fireplace. With a snap of Heph’s fingers, roaring flames spread warmth through the room.

“Neat trick,” Apollo nods.

Heph sinks even _lower_ in his chair. If he went any more down, Apollo might have to tell him to send a postcard from the Underworld. “Come on, man, I just need to know if this thing is going to come out of me, and who you sold it to!”

“I- It can come out.” Heph trips over every word. He uses his tablet to cover his red face again. “And I have customer confidentiality.”

“Aw, come on Heph!” Apollo whines, slapping his hands on the table. “I can’t do anything with this arrow here! It’s ruining my image.”

“Sorry,” Heph squeaks. “Please leave.”

“But I’ve been your friend for _so_ many years! Give me something here, buddy!”

“You really haven’t.” Heph mumbles. He opens one of his desk drawers and pulls out a slip of paper. “I’m sorry, I hope you understand.”

“What?”

“Not talking to you.” Apollo frowns because there’s no one else in the room. “I really wish you weren’t so-”

“Thanks!” Apollo interrupts, snatching the paper away. It’s an address. So much for confidentiality. When Apollo finds this punk, he’s going to bring the power of the sun and grill him for answers. Grilling, both literally and figuratively. “You know, you’re not such a bad guy. We should hang out more.”

Heph puts his head on the desk and groans. “We really shouldn’t. Please- just go. And don’t hurt him!”

Apollo’s hardly hears that, as he’s practically already out the door.

* * *

He should’ve known. Another nymph.

Apollo ends up driving his car (not the cool one- the boring old pickup truck to avoid being followed) back into the forest again. He parks in one of the parking lots nearby and has to carry on the rest of the way on foot.

There’s an apartment complex somewhere in the thick of the trees, and he has to find it. Apollo has always found it funny that even the tree-hugging nymphs needed to get away from nature and into the privacy of their own apartments. But he guesses the landlords must be rolling in money, considering the sheer amount of nymphs there are in this forest.

Apollo’s only been to this particular building a few times. He passes by the familiar room (floor 5, room B), ignoring the tug on his heart. The door is wide open, held open with a moving box. Someone must be moving in (though he should’ve expected it. It’s been a month since Apollo made that particular nymph forcibly move out).

He comes to a stop at 5E, and knocks.

It takes a few minutes, but when it finally opens, Apollo openly stares. The guy standing there yawns and raises an eyebrow.

A minute passes. The guy’s eyebrow twitches. He moves to shut the door, but Apollo grabs his hand.

“What?”

“You’re a guy.” Apollo blurts. “Where’s the nymph?”

“Screw off, Apollo.” The boy pulls away. He shuts the door in Apollo’s face. “Go away.”

“How do you know my name?” Apollo starts banging on the door. “I demand you to let me in right now!”

There’s a muffled, _no_ , and he hears the doorknob jingle and the locks slide into place. _Rude!_ Apollo starts banging on the door harder. “How dare you? I am a _god!_ ”

“Who cares.” Comes the answer through the door. “If you break this door, my landlord is going to be pissed.”

Apollo stops knocking after ten minutes and slides to the floor. Someone down the hall had sprayed him with fertilizer to make him shut up. It’s uncomfortably effective, especially in Apollo’s defenseless eyes.

He carelessly throws his coat over the arrow as if to cover it. It doesn’t do much, considering now Apollo looks like he has a suspiciously large bulge on his leg. His head hits the door. “Please let me in.”

There’s no answer.

“I won’t hurt you.” Apollo continues. He lies on the floor and tries to peek under the door. After seeing nothing, he sits up. “I just want to know about this arrow.”

When he still gets no response, Apollo sighs and pulls out his phone. Searching for his name online, dozens of results pop up. He clicks the first link and curses when he lands on Eros’ website, _Erotes_ (he’s so self-centered, ugh). The deep purple page allows him to listen to a recording of one of the most recent podcasts.

“So get this,” Himeros, god of unrequited love starts to speak. His voice reminds Apollo of fields and springs. He’s a really nice guy, only a minor god so he’s relatively down to earth, but if he hangs out with Eros, then there must be _something_ wrong with him. “Apollo’s walking around in the forest early morning and then all of a sudden, he gets shot.”

“Shot?” Certainly, Pothos (god of longing, to which Apollo has many issues to bring up with him) would save Apollo’s dignity? They’ve shared a few cups of nectar before, right? There _must_ be something to their friendship! “Not another love affair. Isn’t it a little too early for that? And whatever _did_ happen to that girl?”

“It doesn’t matter,” The devil himself speaks. (Not Thanatos, he’s a good kid. And Hades isn’t too bad either, just a bit misunderstood). Eros’ low octave trembles through the phone speakers. Apollo can practically feel the love spilling from his lips. “We all know about how hopeless Apollo-”

“A _Ahh!”_ Apollo falls back when the door swings open. He looks up at the guy standing above him.

“You probably shouldn’t listen to that.” The guy says.

Apollo can only nod.

* * *

It’s strange.

He _did_ expect strange- why wouldn’t he?- but even his expectations didn’t make this any less odd.

Apollo’s sitting on top of a stranger’s cheap dining table, surrounded by stinky herbs and peculiar utensils. He’s especially wary of the garden shovel that’s lying by his knee. What would _that_ be used for? Apollo did not think being buried alive would be very pleasant.

The tiny studio apartment isn’t too different from Apollo’s bedroom. It’s cluttered with old food containers, and there are wide windows sending in lots of sunlight. This apartment, however, is much tinier and has a lot more plants. Everything looks cheap and off-brand, but Apollo expected that as a lack of money seems to be a shared trait among nymphs (though he’d hardly call this guy a nymph).

“Here,” A cool glass is pressed against Apollo’s lips. Apollo stares at the clear liquid.

“It’s just water.” The other rolls his eyes, tugging on his curly hair. His entire body is stained with dirt smudges, and he smells kind of bad. Actually, _really_ bad. Suspiciously like that fertilizer Apollo had been sprayed with earlier.

Apollo drinks. He hadn’t realized how thirsty he had been. “Thanks, man.”

“I already told you. It’s Leo.”

“Sure.” Apollo refuses to call him that because he does not look like a Leo. Leos did not look like nymphs.

Leo sighs and takes the glass back. He puts it in the sink, and with his back to Apollo asks, “So do you normally come around knocking on people’s doors or is this a new thing for you?”

“Do you normally shoot strangers in the leg?”

Leo cocks his head at him with a confused grin. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Apollo stares. He gestures at his leg- to the freaking _arrow in his leg_. “I think you _do_ know what I’m talking about!”

Leo folds his arms and leans on his fridge. “Nymphs don’t shoot arrows. We’re pacifists.”

Apollo gestures wildly around the studio apartment. He flings his arm out to point at the corner of the room where a delicate bow stands. A quiver of arrows that look  _a_ lot like the arrow inside of Apollo sits against the wall. “You definitely shot me! Your bow is right there!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Leo steps in front of Apollo as if to erase the image from his mind. “There’s no bow there.”

Apollo isn’t sure if he should laugh or continue staring in awe. Leo is trying to _lie_ to him about something they both are _clearly_ aware of! _Him!_ A _god!_ “Are you- Did you just-”

Leo waves his hands in front of Apollo’s face. His forehead creased in concentration. “You’re just dreaming, Apollo. Nothing is over there.”

For a slight second, Apollo nearly believes him. He then scoffs and pushes Leo out the way to points at the bow again. “I’m not stupid, I can literally see it right there!”

“Shoot,” Leo mumbles under his breath. “Kinda hoped that would work.”

Apollo gapes, incredulous. “I got shot in the thigh, not the eyes!”

“I know,” Leo pulls out one of the chairs from the dining table and sits. He pokes at Apollo’s arrow, ignoring the gasp of pain. “I missed. Frankie was _so_ right about the wind messing with your aim.”

“Who?” Apollo then shakes away that question because it’s not important. “What _are_ you?”

“A nymph,” Leo says in a _duh_ sort of a way. As if Apollo is supposed to understand that. He tucks back his hair and a pointy ear is revealed. “You’re not exactly known for your intelligence though…”

“Hey!” Apollo glares. “But you’re a guy! Nymphs are- are- ladies! Cute busty ladies who like to party and garden!”

“And gods are dicks who only care about themselves” Leo grumbles. “But you don’t see _me_ calling you out on it. I’m half-nymph, not that it’s important to you.”

It’s not important- Apollo doesn’t really care about someone else’s heritage. However, there is something he _does_ care about.

“Can you at least tell me why you shot me?” Apollo dismisses the earlier conversation.

Leo grins, all lopsided and twisted. Like a blur, he whirls across the room to the bow and back. Nymph speed. He then grabs Apollo’s thigh and yanks out the arrow.

Apollo screams at the burning pain as the arrow gets jerked away. He’s more surprised than hurt, but the absence of the weapon leaves a gaping hole in his thigh. Apollo grows faint at the sight. It’s red. It shouldn’t. It shouldn’t be red.

Despite being a medicine god, he’s never been too good with blood or ichor. (Perhaps that’s the reason why he passed his abilities to Asclepius). As a god, his wounds heal faster than he needed to worry about it. But something about this wound is different. Apollo actually _feels_ pain when his skin rips away from him. It hurts. Oh gods does it _hurt_.

He looks up, only to be staring straight at a clean arrowhead. The tip presses between his eyes.

“Uh, Leo-”

“Shut up.” Leo’s face grows dark. “You deserve worse. You’re a murderer.”

“ _What?_ ” Apollo’s heartbeat quickens. “I don’t-”

“Shut _up_!” A bead of blood dribbles down his nose. Red. “Where is she then?”

“Who?” Apollo lets out, breathlessly. “Who is-”

“Daphne.” Apollo freezes. His jaw trembles at the name. Daphne. She always could make him feel so weak.

Leo’s gaze is unwavering. Apollo can imagine his fingers letting go, and the red feathers of the arrow slicing through the air. “Where is she? You two were dating, and now she’s gone. Nymphs don’t just disappear like that.”

Apollo licks his lips. “I’m sorry. I really am.”

He jabs his own fingers into his wound, and his eyes roll to the back of his head, passing out from the pain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me, innocent and unsuspecting, and blatantly disregarding the entire fic outline i have planned for my magic!valgrace au: let's do a valgrace fic but it's like one of them is a nymph  
> me, 5 secs later: lmao but i should probably write some apolleo  
> me, a day later: ok it's just the daphne/apollo story but with leo  
> me, staring at an empty document: ok but it's modern now  
> me, staring at 5 pages: dApHnE iS mIsSiNg NoW- aPolLo Is HuMaN nOw-  
> me, posting new work: oh.
> 
> i'm literally just like. boi. u r 2 tired 2 do this rite now.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> why did i continue this madness

Apollo’s eyes open up to a bright blue sky. He hears seagulls and the rushing tides.

“Must be one heck of an accident for you to wake up here.”

Apollo barely has enough energy to turn his head to the voice. Intoxicating violet eyes peer into Apollo’s. There’s a sleepy smile that’s hardly evident on the soft face. Hypnos.

“Where am I?”

Hypnos sighs and lays down next to Apollo. He caresses Apollo’s cheek. “Your dreamscape. You really like the beach, huh?”

Wind blows sand over Apollo’s face. The grains don’t phase him. He feels cold. Is he naked? This is too weird.

“You’re not naked,” Hypnos says. “I’m not interested in seeing those sort of dreams.”

“Don’t you have coma patients to bother?” Apollo speculates. “Why are you in my dreams?”

“I sensed you were going through something.” Hypnos yawns and rolls onto his back. He folds his arms behind his head. “I _was_ busy but this seemed more important.”

It’s not often Hypnos visits Apollo. Whenever Apollo sees the guy in person, he’s always fast asleep or ready to doze off. The few times Apollo sees Hypnos awake is when the god slips into mortals' rooms to ease nightmares.

Gods don’t need sleep. They absorb energy from offerings and other people. Sitting in the sun normally recharges Apollo just fine. But still, sleeping is nice. It's great to take a break from all his work and just lie there. Gods definitely don’t dream though, so this is very strange. Hypnos only comes in dreams.

“What’s so important?” Apollo asks. He has summoned enough energy to sit up and lean on his elbows. He’s wearing someone else’s clothes- Apollo can’t recognize the blue and white striped shirt nor the black sweatpants. His feet are fine though, no socks or shoes in sight. 

Hypnos’ eyes are closed as he happily sighs. “This sun feels really good. You’re really powerful, aren’t you? I should visit your dreams more often.”

“What?" Apollo frowns. “Gods don’t dream. What are you talking about?”

“Of course gods dream, silly.” Hypnos is acting as he looks- a childish teenager. His open button down flaps in the wind. For someone who spends his days (and nights) sleeping, he’s fairly fit. (Apollo then finds this thought really creepy because he’s supposed to be in his twenties? To be fair, both gods are thousands of years old, but Apollo and Hypnos look to be a young adult and teen respectively.) “Everyone dreams. You guys just think you’re above it all so it's buried really deep.”

Apollo scoffs. “What do you mean, ‘ _you guys’_?! You’re a god too!”

“Yeah, but I _love_ dreaming.” Hypnos opens his eyes and he tilts his head at Apollo. His eyelids lower and he turns his head away. “I suppose I should warn you before my time is up.”

“What?”

Hypnos yawns again and curls up away from Apollo. His hands sit under his head. “Don’t you notice anything weird?”

Apollo looks around. The beach is empty, void of people or the usual paraphernalia that littered beaches. Besides from the seagulls overhead, they’re the only ones there. Few clouds drift in the sky. Like Hypnos had mentioned earlier, the sun _does_ feel really good.

“No,” Apollo says.

Hypnos laughs. “How about the fact that we’re here? I’ve never been able to reach another god’s dreamscape before. Unless they’re in trouble.”

Apollo so confused and nervous he chokes out a laugh. “What- you can’t be serious. Why would _I_ be in trouble?”

“Don’t know,” Hypnos murmurs. His breathing slows. “I should come here more often- it’s the perfect place for my siestas.”

“Hypnos!” Apollo yells. He flicks sand at the sleeping god. “Tell me more.”

Hypnos rolls over to face Apollo. He looks annoyed. “I don’t know much. You’re pretty powerful here which is good. But something about this feels very…”

“Very what?”

“Human.” Hypnos shifts positions to get more comfortable. “Though that wouldn’t make sense, right? Do you feel any different? Anything- _yawn_ \- strange?”

Apollo feels lighter. He had associated the feeling to come with the dreamscape. Besides that, he feels fine. Maybe a bit dizzy.

“No.” Apollo says.

“Alright,” Hypnos rubs his eyes. “When I wake up, I’ll look around to see what’s going on with you. Do you mind staying asleep a little longer? It's so nice here.”

“I’m not sleeping,” Apollo reminds him. “Wanna tell me how I can leave, though? Got a backdoor or portal for me?”

Hypnos snaps his fingers, and a pillow poofs into existence under his head. “That’s better. And you _are_ sleeping, or at least the real you is.”

Apollo lurches away, staring at his body. The sudden movement makes him forget about his lack of energy problem, and he falls back into the sand with a groan. “What do you mean _‘the real me’_? I _am_ the real me!”

“You’re the subconscious. Your body is lying on some kid’s bed getting treated for some injury.” Hypnos’ eyes lazily slide down Apollo’s body, landing on his right leg. There’s nothing there, and Apollo feels fine. His purple eyes glow gold for a quick second before returning to its previous violet tones. “Oh. That makes sense, I guess.”

“What? Stop being so cryptic, you twerp, it’s not cute.” Apollo looks at the other. Hypnos stares back. He then glances at the sky and whines.

“Aw, come on! This was the perfect place to nap!” Hypnos yells at the sky. He sits up and tucks his pillow under his arm. “Looks like you’re getting up. Did you know you grind your teeth in your sleep? That’s a really bad habit. Until next time, Apollo.”

“Wait you can’t-”

Apollo gasps as he jolts awake.

He _is_ lying on ‘some kid’s bed’ like Hypnos had mentioned, but the god had failed to mention that the kid is Leo.

Leo’s currently slumped over in a chair next to the bed, sleeping from the sound of his little snores. The nymph looks more relaxed this way- less like he wants to kill Apollo and more like the nature spirit he claims to be.

Apollo sits up. He’s in the unusual clothing from his dream, except his sweatpants’ right leg is pulled up to his mid-thigh. Bandages peek from under his pants, stopping just above the knee. When Apollo pokes his leg, he doesn’t feel anything. That’s good, right?

But it doesn’t make sense. Why would the person who shot him, want him to heal? Perhaps Leo wanted him in tip-top shape before murdering the god.

From Apollo’s limited view of outside the window, it’s night time. He can practically hear the music pumping from that new club not too far away. Can you believe this is all because Apollo had decided to check that place out? Maybe if he stayed with the sunrise instead of wandering, he wouldn’t have gotten shot.

But no, that can’t be true. There was a motive to the arrow. Hadn’t Leo mentioned Daphne? He wanted to know where she was. Apollo wishes he can explain. He really does.

“Hermes!” Apollo whisper-yells into the air. “I know you’re here, you pervert.”

Hermes materializes on the bed, with a pout. He’s back in his tiny form, hardly making a dent in the bedding. His weight distribution has always been odd- he only ever feels heavy when he’s on top of Apollo but seems to weigh as light as a feather everywhere else. Maybe he's purposely doing that? “I’m not a pervert, man. Have you been telling people that? You’re going to mess up my image.”

“You’re definitely a pervert.” Apollo slips out of the bed. His leg feels fine enough to walk. Where are his shoes? He spots his coat lying on the floor. “You’re always so quick to come to us.”

“Excuse me? It’s my _job_ to come to gods when they ask.” Hermes flies around the room. He sits on top of Leo’s head, playing with the curly hair. “Who is this? I am _so_ not helping you with your walk of shame, bro.”

“It’s not a walk of shame,” Apollo rolls his eyes and claps his hands. “Come on, take me home.”

“Er,” Hermes got himself tangled in the hair. Apollo makes no move to get him out. “I don’t think you’d wanna get home right now. It’s… messy.”

“What? Take me home right now, Herms!”

“Don’t call me that.” Hermes grunts. “Has this kid heard of tangle-free shampoo?”

Apollo taps his foot. “Stop doing that, you’re going to wake him up.”

Hermes groans and tries his best with waving his hand around. In a burst of orange glitter, Leo’s hair straightens and falls over his face. Hermes zips away, brushing out his clothes. “ _Finally_.”

“Home.” Apollo reminds him.

Hermes sits on his shoulder. “If you say so.”

They flash out of the apartment. When the blinding light fades from his eyes, Apollo collapses onto his knees. Hermes lets out a shout and zips away before he can get crushed.

“What’s up with you?” Hermes flitters in his face.

“I… don’t know.” Apollo breathes heavily. His body hurts, heart feeling like it’s being squeezed. He grabs at his chest. “What did _you_ do?”

“I didn’t do anything, bro.” Hermes scratches his head. “Though it was really draining to transport you. Something about you is weird.”

Apollo struggles to stand up. He tries to catch his breath, surveying the room. “Why are we in your basement?”

“Told you, bro.” Hermes flies around the room. “Your house is a really bad idea. Unless you want to see you-know-who.”

“Ugh,” Apollo collapses into one of the beat up recliners facing a pool table. “Icarus is still following me? You’d think he’d understand a one night stand.”

“Maybe you should _talk_ to him instead of avoiding him.” Hermes points out. He sits on the edge of the pool table. “He heard that you were injured and wanted to, uh, nurse you back to health. By the way, what’s up with that?”

“That kid whose hair you straightened wanted to hunt me down because he thinks I killed Daphne.” Apollo tilts his head back. Hermes’ basement has a very ugly ceiling design of confusing circles and squiggles.

“What is he, an ex? Why does he care so much?”

“He’s a nymph, I think.” Apollo says. “I’m not really sure.”

“There aren’t any male nymphs,” Hermes notes. “Unless he’s a satyr?”

“There’s no horns or anything.” Apollo lowers his head to look at Hermes. “Look around to see what you can find about Leo.”

Hermes sighs and looks uncomfortable. It takes a few moments for him to gather his next remark. “Do you… do _you_ know where Daphne is? You were really into her and ever since she went missing everyone keeps saying-”

“I know what they’re saying!” Apollo cuts him off. His eyes narrow. “I would never hurt her.”

Hermes looks unconvinced but doesn’t comment. He summons his staff (miniature to match his small stature) and taps it against the pool table. It turns into a clipboard. “Sorry, Apollo, got some new jobs coming up. Don’t want to lose any drachmas, now do we?”

He flashes out. Apollo sighs in relief.

* * *

When he returns home, Apollo’s not surprised to find a bouquet of sunflowers and roses sitting in his kitchen. The tag confirms his suspicions and Apollo throws them out without hesitation. He scans his floors for any fallen feathers and is consoled by the clean tiles and wood. He really should change his locks (though it’ll be the second time this month and over time it grows more expensive. Maybe he should find out if there’s some sort of punch card. Change your lock 5 times in a month and get the next one free.)

He gets a call just as he steps into his bedroom.

He interrupts before Artemis has the chance to talk. “Two times in the span of a few hours. Something must be serious.”

“A few hours? Apollo, you’ve been missing for nearly a week!”

Apollo checks the date on his phone. His last phone call to Artemis was five days ago. Weird. He must’ve been asleep at the (half-)nymph(?)’s house longer than he thought. Why didn’t Hermes tell him that? Or Hypnos for that matter? How long _was_ he talking to the god of sleep?

“That’s wild.”

Artemis huffs. “You’re incredibly stupid! First, you get attacked and then kidnapped! Zeus is issuing a reward for whoever hurt you. He thinks it’s an act of terrorism!”

“That’s extreme.” Apollo peels off his clothes. Despite the fact that Leo might kill him, he should probably give back the clothes. “He’s such a drama queen.”

“You’re the drama queen!” Artemis says. She exhales. “At least you’re fine. Why didn’t you respond to my calls?”

“You didn’t call me.” The last call _had_ been from five days ago, so if she called his phone never received it.

“Not those calls. I tried summoning you, but you never appeared.” As gods, they shared a connection. It’s a lot more convenient to summon a god through their powers and bond, than calling them through a phone. Artemis and Apollo’s bond has always been more special considering they’re twins.

If he had been sleeping, Apollo would’ve sensed Artemis calling out to him and woke up immediately. But he was in the dreamscape, which makes everything so weird. How did he access there? From what Hypnos was implying, it's not normal for a god to reach there.

“Apollo?”

“Yeah, I’m here.” He pulls on a fresh polo shirt. The bright yellow makes him feel a bit happier, at least. “Hey, can you call Zeus and tell him to chill out. And send me Hypnos’ number too.”

“Hypnos? What could you want-”

Apollo cuts her off. “It’s nothing. See ya later, Artie.” He hangs up on her and falls back into his bed.

The god had said he was in trouble, right? But in trouble of _what_? And why was it affecting him so weirdly?

* * *

Hypnos is such a loser that he doesn’t even have a phone. Supposedly he had gotten to the store and while checking out the phone models, he fell asleep and couldn’t even sign the papers.

He has an email though. As it turns out, Apollo has one too- one he hasn’t touched in years and his inbox is overflowing with messages. It stopped showing a number for unopened emails and had been replaced with an infinity sign.

 

 

From: apollo@olympia.net

Subject: Trouble

To: hypnoashjks@olympia.net

Get a phone, you are living in the 21st century. Also why does your email end in a keyboard smash? It’s really hard to remember.

We need to talk. Care to meet up?

Apollo

Sent from my iPhone

 

 

 

 

 

From: hypnoashjks@olympia.net

Subject: Re: Trouble

To: apollo@olympia.net

no

 

 

 

 

 

From: apollo@olympia.net

Subject: Re: Re: Trouble

To: hypnoashjks@olympia.net

What do you mean no? Hypnos, I demand you talk to me at once!

Apollo

Sent from my iPhone

 

 

 

 

 

From: hypnoashjks@olympia.net

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Trouble

To: apollo@olympia.net

i can’t. sorry. busy.

 

 

Apollo supposes Hypnos has always been a flighty god anyway, always conveniently falling asleep when someone needs something. He suspects he might be faking it half of the time.

“ _Aaaaaathenaaaaaaaa!”_ Apollo calls out into the library. A book is thrown at his head followed by a loud shushing noise.

“How dare you!” Apollo whispers back as harshly as he can, for fear of getting hit again if he speaks any louder. When he turns back around, Athena is standing on the other side of the desk.

“I’m surprised you know where to find me,” Athena says cooly. “You don’t seem like someone who has been to a library before.”

Apollo’s face flushes red. Of course, he’s been to a library before! There are brilliant works created by him and his kids everywhere! Where else is he going to find inspiration? Where else will he get to reread some of his greatest poems and sonnets? Still, not many people would believe Apollo to be someone who enjoys books.

“What is it you need?” Athena stamps a paper in front of her. “I’m busy-”

“Can you tell me what’s happening to me?” Apollo leans over the desk.

“Have you,” Athena raises an eyebrow. “Ever heard of _Google?_ ”

“Please!” Apollo pleads loudly. Another book flies at him, but he thankfully ducks this time. He clasps his hands together, this time whispering. “You’re like the smartest person I know!”

Athena’s not the vainest goddess around (Hera probably falls into that spot. Contrary to popular belief, Aphrodite can be pretty down-to-earth at times) but she does love being complimented on her brains. She looks smug, as she grabs Apollo’s hand.

“Fine, but not here.” She takes them into the depths of the library. They slip into a private room. “You’re too loud.”

“Thank you!” Apollo sits in one of the wooden chairs. He pulls it up to her seat at a computer. It looks practically ancient- giving pathetic bursts of air as it gets started up. “Can you see what’s wrong with me?”

“I think it’s only a bruised ego,” Athena tugs at her watch. “I heard you got hit with an arrow, the other week, right? Then you were kidnapped.”

“How do you know that?” Apollo asks, even though he knows he will hate the answer.

“Eros-” Even _Athena_ listens to that idiot? Come _on!_ “- of course. While his normal drama is irritating, sometimes he gives the most fantastic analysis on love and life.”

“Uh huh.” Apollo sets his head on the table. “Why won’t everyone let it go? All week, people kept calling me _Target Practice_.”

Athena lets out a chuckle. “That’s hilarious.”

“It’s _embarrassing_.” Apollo looks up at her. “Do you know if Hephaestus does something to his arrows? I’ve felt really weird since I’ve been hit.”

“They’re regular arrows, from what I know.” Athena signs into the computer. She sits back as it loads. “Hephaestus would barely hurt a fly, let alone poison his weapons.”

“But what if it’s a commission? Would he do it then?”

Athena scans Apollo over, analyzing him for something. “Maybe if it was for someone special. But he’s never done that sort of thing with me, so it must be a rare case.”

Apollo’s stuck then. He doubts some sort of weird half-breed nymph would be special to Hephaestus. Maybe he stole the arrows? It still doesn’t explain Apollo’s lack of energy. Or his lack of ichor. He stares at his arm, where blue veins are visible.

Athena clears her throat. “Perhaps you should ask Hephaestus about it. He might have some sort of explanation.”

“Yeah, sure.” Apollo’s not going to do that, especially after the way Hephaestus was acting last time. He’s so _weird-_  how does someone get to be so _odd_? “Hey, do you know anything about male nymph’s?”

“Satyrs, you mean? We have lots of books on them.” Athena corrects. She tucks a brown hair behind her ear.

Apollo is relieved when the computer finally opens up to the desktop. Why were these things so slow? “No, I mean a male nymph. Not a satyr, but a nymph whose male.”

Athena opens up a files icon. She pauses, tapping her chin. “There’s nothing I can remember about any of those. Are you sure you don’t mean a satyr? I can check the databases but I can’t guarantee there’s anything there.”

“He’s definitely not a satyr.” Apollo tries his best to remember Leo. His memory is foggy. Which is part of the strangeness! Normally, as a god, he can remember everything so clearly! Something like a half-nymph pulling out an arrow should be crystal clear in his mind, but it’s _not_. “He mentioned something about being _half_ a nymph.”

“Alright,” Athena starts searching through the files. She types in ‘male’ and ‘half nymph’. Only a few pages slowly load onto the screen. “But most nymph offspring are known to be either nymphs or if male, a satyr.”

“What if they’re half human?” Apollo reads through some of the results. None of them seem to be helpful.

Athena clicks on another article. “Same thing. The magic side is more powerful so that’s what takes over. I’m surprised you didn’t ask Hermes all this- he’s picked up a bit of knowledge on his travels. Aren’t the two of you best friends?”

“Gross,” Apollo says. He mostly tolerates Hermes a bit more than other gods. They’re not really friends or anything. Apollo just depends on Hermes because he’s easy to access and can transport Apollo faster than the god can transport himself. “He’s in a Hawaiian shirt and snapback phase and I don’t want to be associated with him right now.”

“It’s that bad,” Athena muses. Apollo’s heard of their on and off friendship- sometimes Athena and Hermes could bicker for eons (the whole Odysseus thing was super overexaggerated, really) but the next day could be as thick as thieves. Looks like they’re friends right now.

“Whatever.”

“Look,” Athena leans forward and squints at the screen. “‘ _Miracle Nymph Abandoned in Forest_ ’? I think this might be what you’re looking for. I’ll print it out for you.”

“Thanks.” Apollo hopes it might give him a few answers. He then remembers why he originally came to Athena. “Do you know if I’m sick or something? Someone told me I was in trouble.”

Athena’s eyebrows dip. “Shouldn’t _you_ have a better idea if you’re sick or not?”

“That’s the thing,” Apollo says. “I can’t really use any of my powers. I _know_ they’re still there because I can feel them, but I can’t access them.”

“Huh,” Athena turns back to the computer, complex look on her face. “That _is_ strange. Maybe you short-circuited? It could just be stress from all your responsibilities.”

Apollo rubs at his chest. “I don’t know. I feel weak, and every time I try to interact with magic, it’s tiring. Then there’s the whole ichor-” He stops, not sure if he should’ve mentioned anything.

“What?” Athena’s head swerves. “What ichor thing? Is it another color? Is it diluted?”

“It’s nothing.” Apollo tries to dismiss the topic. “I just feel weak is all.”

“Apollo!” Athena lectures. “You of all people should know how important blood can be when someone is ill!”

Apollo winces and sinks back into his chair. “Alright, alright don’t yell, we _are_ in a library.”

Athena doesn’t seem amused by that comment. He continues, twiddling his fingers. “My blood isn’t ichor anymore. It’s just, uh, y’know, _blood_. That red mortal stuff.”

Athena stops scrolling. Her eyes widen to the size of the sun. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” Apollo picks at his cuticles. “My healing is out of wack too.”

A silence surrounds the room. Athena’s mouth is open, creating a small O. She takes his hand in hers. “Are you okay, Apollo?”

He eyes their joint hands. “Yeah, why?”

“I think,” Athena hesitates. “I think you might be mortal.”

Apollo scoffs. “That’s ridiculous. A god can’t be made mortal.”

“True, it hasn’t happened before,” Athena says. “But you’ve been _close_ to mortal before, right? Don’t you remember when Zeus punished you by stripping your powers?”

“I still had ichor.” Apollo retorts. He frowns, thinking over the past few days. He jerks up, backing away from Athena. “I can’t be _mortal_ \- that’s- that’s _crazy!”_

“Listen to me, Apollo.” Athena’s calm and soothing voice flows through Apollo like the wind. “I can look up what’s going on with you. I’ll keep it a secret for now, but you can’t be too rash.”

Apollo stares at his hands. The veins there- they’re all _wrong_. It’s all so. It’s all so _wrong_.

“Apollo? Do you understand me? Do you understand what I’m saying?” Athena stands up.

Apollo swallows, with a slow nod. “Yes. I just- I just need to to go.”

Athena nods. She looks uncertain. “I’m going to help you figure this all out, okay? Don’t lose faith.”

“Okay,” Apollo hurries out the room. He runs through the bookshelves, mindful of the Furries reshelving books, and storms out of the library. It’s raining, and Apollo hadn’t planned for that.

He sinks into his truck’s comfortable leather seat. He had driven the car for fear of recognition, but it was a good thing he did because of the rain.

He’s mortal now, if Athena’s quick analysis is correct. And that’s. That definitely puts a damper on everything. But how is it possible? How can someone change Apollo from _Apollo_ and into something else?

Apollo curses, fumbling with his keys. He puts on his seatbelt and pulls out the parking lot. He might as well go to the source of his problems.

Leo better be prepared for an angry (ex)god heading his way. Mortal or not, there’s bound to be some sort of hell to pay.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you haven't heard, my chromebook is completely **broken** which means that updating anything and replying to comments will take a bit longer than normal. im on mobile right now, and it's literally taking me so long to type this... besides that, I'm in camp now (your girl is a CIT cause I'm not old enough to be a counselor even though i need the money :') ) which heavily frowns upon phone use so that means I can't write during the day... so my only access to a laptop is when I get home, and that's hoping that one isn't being used by my working parents... plus I have so much summer hw that idk if I can actually put it off to the last minute as per normal (but I'm gonna try to put it off as long as I can  >:3)... then I got to try and get my permit when the summer ends which means passing a written driver's test(?) .... life is tough this summer :')
> 
> anyway, u definitely didn't come here to hear me whine... sorry about the mistakes, I will try to correct them throughout the week... *shivers* on my phone...

Leo’s insufferable.

He expected Apollo to barge into the apartment and had left the door wide open for him. What a brat.

“Oh, it’s you,” Leo looks up from his bowl of cereal. He glances down at Apollo’s feet. “Can you take off your shoes? Kinda don’t need the mud going everywhere.”

Even as he’s seething, Apollo grumbles as he walks back to the door to place his shoes and stomps back to where the kid is sitting. Leo points his spoon at him. “You’re angry.”

“ _I wonder why,_ ” Apollo slams his hands on the table. The bowl jumps, sending milk sloshing out. “Change me back.”

“Uhh,” Leo looks constipated. “Not really sure how to. I was sort of hoping you were going to die so I wouldn’t have to deal with you.”

“What do you mean you’re don’t know _how to!?_ ”

Leo shrugs. “I’m kind of bad with the whole, y’know-” he waves his hand around, creating a neon red trail from his fingertips, “-nymph magic stuff. I had to get help from someone just to get you mortal.”

Apollo’s enraged. He grabs Leo by his collar, holding his fist back. “Do you _know_ who I am? You better fix me, and _fast_.”

Leo looks unaffected by the god (freaking _Apollo_ who is so powerful that he can’t even name his _own powers!_ ) holding him. “Dude, you’re acting like Ares right now. Never met the guy, but I heard he’s a real knucklehead. Also, you’re wet.”

“Ares?” Apollo drops him, jaw-dropping as well. “I am _so_ not like that brute! He doesn’t even know how to read!”

Leo snorts from the floor. “I thought that was a rumor.”

“I mean, it is, but I’ve never actually _seen_ him read-” Apollo pauses and points his finger at Leo. “Hey, you shut up! You’re the enemy here! How dare you take my divinity!”

“Whoa, I didn’t take anyone’s virginity.”

“ _Divinity!_ My godliness! My godship!”

Leo pushes Apollo’s finger from his face and stands up. “Now you’re just making up words.”

Apollo fumes. “I demand you to turn me back!”

“Were you even listening to me? I told you, I don’t know how to.” He brushes past Apollo and points at the wide open apartment door. “Do you know how dangerous that is? Everyone here already thinks I’m crazy!”

“Well, _sorry_ for not caring about manners when something like my _divinity_ is on the line!” Apollo yells back. “I am _nothing_ without my powers! I want them back!”

“That’s dumb,” Leo says as he peeks his head outside the apartment. He quickly closes the door and locks it. “Who knew gods were such crybabies?”

“I am- how dare-” Apollo sputters. He clenches and unclenches his fists, settling for a squeaky, “ _Crybaby?”_

“Listen,” Leo crosses the room to sit on the bed. He has to push off a strange mixture of clothes and medical supplies. They fall to the floor, a roll of bandages rolling and hitting Apollo’s left foot. “You deserve to die because I _know_ you did something to Daphne. But some crazy god tried to tell me otherwise when I was sleeping.”

Hypnos. He’s the only one Apollo can think of to intercept dreams like that. Why is the god getting so busy? What does he know?

“So I guess I’m going to have to believe him for now,” Leo looks at Apollo distastefully. “And you for now.”

“I-”

Leo’s suddenly in front of him, Swiss Army knife to Apollo’s chest. How can he move so fast? “But I swear, if I find out that you’re even _remotely_ responsible for her being missing, I will not hesitate to kill you.”

“Noted,” Apollo uses his finger to move the blade away. He accidentally slices his finger- feeling the sting before seeing the small bead of blood. Apollo feels sick. “But I can tell you now that there are going to be some very angry gods who will kill you for doing this to me.”

Leo flicks away his knife, tucking it into his pocket. He eyes Apollo’s cut finger. “That’s fine, I pretty much expected that. Though _you_ should be more worried than me.”

“What? And why should I?”

“Well,” Leo smirks. “You’ve pissed off quite a lot of people, Apollo. It’s only natural that you’ll get attacked when this comes out.”

Apollo analyzes him, trying to see if the kid is bluffing. Maybe he’s trying to psych Apollo out for some reason? Trying to scare him?

He looks honest, and _that’s_ what scares Apollo.

* * *

Hestia is rather hesitant to talk to Apollo, and he can understand why. She’s sitting across the table from a shady looking guy in a trench coat, sunglasses, and fedora.

“I don’t think this is all necessary,” Hestia’s voice is rather soft, like a lovely whisper. “You’re attracting more attention than getting rid of it.”

“I’m fine,” Apollo assures her. He ducks his head under the laminated menu. “So can you help me or not?”

“Hephaestus is rather private, Apollo.” She says. “I don’t think he’d appreciate if you snooped around his apartment.”

“Yeah, I know that!” Apollo pokes his head up to see if anyone heard him, before ducking down again. “That’s why you’re going to be my inside eyes.”

“Apollo, I-”

“Are y’all ready to order?” They both glance up at the waitress who slithers her tongue at them. ‘Echidna’ read her name tag. Oh gods, Apollo nearly laughs. When did the mother of monsters become a waiter at _Denny’s_? He really needs to keep up with everything. Maybe he should follow her on Olympstagram. (He has a very high following with a couple million followers, which should be expected because of how awesome he is.)

(Though he probably shouldn't mention her downfall, considering he just became mortal a few weeks ago. That's a bit more embarrassing then working at Denny's.)

“Just coffee,” Apollo says, knocking his tone down a few octaves. It doesn’t come out as intended, and he sounds like a teenage boy just going through puberty. The horror! It’s a good thing Echidna doesn’t notice, or just doesn’t care.

“And you, pretty lady?” Echidna snaps her gum and scratches her head with the back of her pen. She stretches out the words ‘pretty lady’ so it sounds like _pre-dee lay-deeeee._

Hestia orders a giant omelet to go. She seems reluctant to do so, actually, but gives Echidna a warm smile.

“You know, you didn’t have to order anything,” Apollo tells her when Echidna leaves. He scans the restaurant for a familiar face and is pleased to find none. “I’m pretty sure one of their cooks lost an eye in the soup once. It just popped out and they didn’t even notice.”

Hestia looks unsettled. “It’s for Hephaestus. He always works late and forgets to eat so I figured he’d want something.”

“Aw, you two are so cute,” Apollo rolls his eyes. “Who cares if the guy eats or not! All I need to know is if you’re gonna steal the commission file or do I need to steal it myself!”

Hestia sighs. “...And you’re sure that this, er, _arrow_ is the reason for your troubles? And if I help you, you’d leave Hephaestus alone?”

Apollo can’t really confirm either things, but he flashes her a blinding grin. “Of course! You’re cool, Hestia, so I wouldn’t dare bother you or your friends!”

“Alright,” Hestia shakes her head. She gives Apollo a warning look. “But if you go back on your word, trust me you will pay, Apollo.”

Apollo shivers. She might be the goddess of the hearth, but even _she_ can be pretty icy. He makes a mental note to avoid crossing her.

He grins at her, “Gotcha.”

Hestia slumps back in her chair with another heavy sigh. “You’re just a bunch of sunshine, aren’t you?”

“Pretty much.”

* * *

**Miracle Nymph Abandoned in Forest**

Apollo frowns at the grainy picture and curses the cheap librarians who refused to print the article in color. But from the looks of the shades of gray, Apollo could imagine it to be a baby Leo. Or just a smudge on old camera lenses, that is also definitely possible.

“Miracle nymph, nearly a year old, was found in a ditch in the southwest region of an unoccupied area of forest.” Apollo reads aloud. He chews on his toast and frowns. “How long did you put this in the toaster?”

Hermes flushes. “Bro, if you wanted toast, make your own! It’s harder than this looks.”

“What’s so hard about making _toast_? It’s literally bread in a toaster!” Apollo coughs violently. “Oh gods, it’s so dry. Give me some water.”

Hermes crosses his arms. “You should appreciate me more. Why don’t you say _please_?”

“I’ll say please when you’re not trying to kill me with ash.” Apollo waves his hand, dropping his head to skim the article. After a few seconds of holding out an empty hand, Hermes snorts.

Apollo quickly realizes his mistake. Right. Powerless. His water bottle isn’t going to fly out the fridge at his command anymore.

“Do you-”

“Don’t you dare say a word,” Apollo shoots, embarrassed. He walks to the fridge, news article in hand. “Baby found in a ditch covered in vines and moss, etcetera etcetera, something about no sign of a mother or father. The reporter was just as surprised to find the nymph to be a boy, as the hikers who found him.”

“How’d they know he was a nymph?” Hermes bites into Apollo’s abandoned toast. Apollo winces at the loud crunching noise. “I mean, it could’ve just been some mortal kid.”

Apollo combs through the article. “He could move the vines around himself without help. So I guess, he had some kind of earth magic, and everyone assumed him to be a nymph. I mean, Leo has the pointy ears and speed, and he doesn’t _look_ like a satyr.”

Hermes rests his head on the kitchen island. “How come we never heard of this? A male must’ve been some kind of huge breakthrough in the nymph community. And what is ' _unoccupied area of forest_ '? Aren't the nymphs _literally_ the forest?”

Apollo shrugs. “I don’t know. The article is from a nymph newspaper, so 'unoccupied area of forest' probably means something to nymphs. Like slang, I guess. Anyway, it says they put him in some sort of orphanage that one of the hikers ran. Do you think you can find anything on that?”

“Just Google it,” Hermes mumbles.

“Google? Jeez, Herms, you can’t just google _everything!_ ” Apollo pulls out his phone. “Actually, nevermind, you might be right. What am I searching for?”

“Dunno. Orphanage for magical creatures?” Hermes sits up. “Who sent you this article, anyway? You don’t know how to use a printer.”

“I know how to use a printer.” Apollo doesn’t know how to use a printer. He normally makes someone else print files for him. The perks of being himself, Apollo supposes. “It was Athena, naturally. I wonder if she does anything besides stay in the library. She must get so bored there.”

“You didn’t tell me you saw Athena!”

Apollo looks up. “Am I supposed to? Why does it matter?”

Hermes blushes. “Nevermind. Found anything about the orphanage?”

“Yeah. It’s advertised as a summer camp though. But it’s basically the same orphanage for random kids.” Apollo shows his screen to Hermes. “Camp Half-Blood. Heard of it? They probably have more info on Leo if they helped raise him.”

"You could just ask Leo yourself." Hermes flicks his wrist, materializing his clipboard. He flips through the pages. “But yeah, it’s on my delivery list for tomorrow actually. Dionysus is there during the day and he buys a lot of Pepsi.”

“Pepsi? Ridiculous. Dionysus doesn’t drink Pepsi.”

“He went to an AA meeting a few years back, bro. It really changed his life.” Hermes drops his clipboard on the counter. When Apollo peers at it, the papers look blank. Hermes must’ve invested in some heavy privacy magic. It’s comforting to know that Apollo’s packages and messages are protected from prying eyes. (His nights spent drunk off of nectar while on Amazon are not exactly his proudest moments.)

“Why would Dionysus go to an AA meeting? Alcohol is his life!” Apollo opens his Olympstagram to Dionysus’ profile. The wine god hasn’t posted in months, but the last image was of him at a wine tasting. Apollo shoves the phone in Hermes’ face.

Hermes scrolls through Dionysus profile. “He and Zeus seem pretty close. Did you know that? I definitely didn’t.”

“What?” Apollo’s shocked because LOL since when did Zeus have friends other than his reflection? Times are truly changing, though Apollo would have no clue if it’s for the better. He turns off his phone. “Can I tag along on your delivery?”

Hermes looks uneasy, as his eyes look Apollo up and down. “I don’t know if you’ll be up for it. Last time I teleported you, you passed out.”

A few days ago, Apollo got into a sticky situation with Icarus snooping around his living room and called for Hermes’ help. They had landed in Hermes’ backyard, and Apollo fainted as soon as his feet touched the ground. He had woken up a few minutes later, sweating and dizzy.

“You never explained that, by the way.” Apollo places a hand over his stomach, which had started tumbling and twisting at the thought of teleporting again. His dumb mortal body better learn to express its emotions without making Apollo feel weird. “I never got sick when I had my powers.”

Hermes shrugs. “It’s a lot different transporting gods and mortals. When I teleport other people, I take a bit of their energy to help along the way. Mortals don’t have much tolerance for magic, so it takes a lot more of their energy than it does gods, who have like, _oceans_ of energy, bro.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” Apollo says. “Just say your powers are dumb and get over it.”

“I tried to tell you, bro.” Hermes drums his fingers on the counter. “Magical creatures have completely different tolerances, but most people don’t even realize that. I only notice it because I deal with so many of them.”

“Oh my _gods_ , you’re boring.” Apollo turns back to his news article. “No wonder you and Athena are friends.”

“I don’t know why I’m still friends with you when you’re so mean,” Hermes says. He lifts his clipboard and goes through the pages. “If you really want to come with me to the camp tomorrow, I’ll come over and pick you up.”

“Great,” Apollo says. “Hey, before you leave- something’s been bugging me. Leo mentioned something about people wanting to hurt me? Know anything about that?”

Hermes frowns. “You might be famous and all, but you’re not well-liked in some circles. Though everyone still thinks you're a god, right? So I doubt someone would attack you. And if they do, I got your back, bro.”

The promise is only slightly comforting because Apollo’s not sure if he can put his safety in the hands of a Hawaiian-shirt-snapback-sweatpants wearing kind of guy. But he supposes Hermes being his bodyguard would have to do for now.

Apollo’s not even sure why the guy was so attached to him in the first place. Hermes is a pretty … er… _interesting_ dude (he uses the word ‘interesting’ very loosely) but Apollo wouldn’t be surprised if he and Athena were his only friends. While Apollo is obviously the brilliant and beautiful star that everyone wanted to be, Hermes is more like the loser guy in his forties who lives in his parents' basement, only ever leaving to answer the door for pizza. Hermes is very lucky to know someone like Apollo… even though Apollo wouldn’t consider them friends.

Hermes disappears in his usual flash of light, leaving Apollo alone in his home. He sighs, a bit uncomfortable by the silence. Perhaps he should invest in a pet- just something to keep him company at home.

For such a popular god, Apollo can feel awfully lonely sometimes.

* * *

Apollo marches his way to Leo’s apartment, yet again in rage. The stupid nymph cursed him! Not just with mortality- no, that’s something Apollo could deal with. But _this!?_ This is simply inexcusable!

“Hey, Apollo, what’s up?” Leo welcomes him into the apartment. “Sorry I didn’t clean up the place, I wasn’t expecting you.”

“What’s up? _What’s up?!”_ Apollo cries. “Is that all you have to say to me?!”

“Uh, yeah,” Leo says. “I stopped trying to kill you, so why are you so angry?”

“You, Leo Whatever Your Last Name Is! You need to undo whatever nymph magic you did to me, right now!”

“It’s not that easy.”

“Do you see me right now?” Apollo grabs him by the shoulders. He violently shakes Leo. “Do you _see_ me right now?”

“Whoa, whoa, calm down.” Leo squints at Apollo. “What’s wrong?”

“ _This!”_ Apollo points at his face. There, ruining his godly smooth and beautiful complexion, is the most ugliest red mark Apollo’s ever seen. “I demand you to get rid of it!”

“Dude, calm down. It’s just a pimple.” Leo looks at the red spot. “It’s honestly not even that bad. Just wash your face tonight and drink water, and it’ll go away.”

“A pimple, Leo!” Apollo flails around. “Gods do _not_ get pimples! Take it back!”

“Are you normally this whiny?” Leo asks.

Apollo’s face grows red at the comment (but not red enough to cover the sight of his hideous deformity growing on his cheek, unfortunately). “How dare you?! Need I remind you, that it’s because of you, that I’m like this? Unless you fix this, I _refuse_ to leave this apartment!”

Leo shrugs. “Fine, but that means you have to pay rent. Life isn’t cheap in the woods.”

“I was joking!” Apollo whines. He grabs Leo’s arm. “Please, please, _please_ get rid of this pimple. I can’t go in public with this.”

“Why not? Lots of people do it. They must be _so_ brave in your eyes.” Leo snickers. “Did you actually come to my apartment because of a pimple?”

“It’s not that simple!” Apollo ignores his latter question, because _yes_ , he absolutely did come over because of a pimple. But only because his name is in stake! He would be on the front page of every single magazine if he went out looking like this! It’s a good thing the cursed blemish was high enough that his sunglasses covered it. But that means it’s also high enough for Apollo to see it when he looks down! “If everyone saw my pimple, then they’ll know something’s wrong with my powers!”

“Wait. You’re telling me it’s been like a _month_ and no ones found out?” Leo’s jaw drops. “Gods are really something else, aren’t they?”

“ _I’m_ a god!” Apollo moans, touching at the skin around his pimple. His poor precious pores had to deal with the filth that comes with being a mortal. He owes his face a good face mask for being so kind to him the past few centuries. However, that will have to wait until after Apollo gets back his powers and rightful gloriously clear skin.

“Not anymore.” Leo sits on his bed. He leans over to dig into his nightstand. “I guess I _do_ have something that could help you. Piper used to get some really bad ones on her nose.”

“I don’t care about a Piper, I care about _me!_ Gimme the stuff, gimme, gimme-” Apollo snatches up the cream that Leo offers him. He quickly spins the cap off and gags at the smell. “ _Ohmygods, what the heck is this?!_ ”

Leo’s covering his nose. He obviously knew what to expect, but failed to warn Apollo ahead of time “It’s some kind of seaweed stuff. It has like, all these minerals and, uh, minotaur- actually nevermind. You _really_ don’t want to know. But trust me, it works wonders.”

Apollo tries not to sniff the white cream as he spreads it across his cheek. It feels wonderful on his skin, like little bubbles tingling and cleansing his pores. But it still makes him want to throw up.

“My bathroom’s right there,” Leo points to a door, looking rather sick himself. “Please close that container.”

Leo’s bathroom is small but comfortable. Apollo snoops through his medicine cabinet, to find many colorful bottles of various liquids and pills. None of the items look familiar. When he dries his face off, the towel he uses is very soft and fluffy. It smells like aloe vera. Very typical of a nymph.

Leo’s sitting on his bed, typing into a laptop, when Apollo comes back out. He closes the laptop when he notices Apollo. “Your face should be clear in a few hours. It might be a little oily, so watch out for that."

“Thank you, Leo.” Apollo sits next to him on the bed. He sighs, rubbing his face. “This isn’t going to work.”

“Obviously. If you keep rubbing, you’re just going to get more acne.”

“Not that.” Apollo folds his arms. “We really need to get my divinity back.”

Leo laughs. “I think that’s a one time thing, you can’t really get that back.”

“ _Di-vi-ni-ty_. Gods, will you be serious?” Apollo glares at him. “I can’t keep this mortal thing a secret for much longer.”

“Yeah, I’m kind of tired off getting harrassed by your god friends.” Leo admits. “They just don’t want to quit.”

“Wait, what?” Apollo frowns. He’s been very careful with who he trusted with his secret. So far it’s only been Artemis, Athena, Hermes and Hestia, and they’ve all been sworn to secrecy. He definitely trusted the girls, and Hermes knew when to keep a secret (especially for his “bestest bro”, a title Apollo has vehemently denied ever since it was gifted to him). “What god friends?”

“Eros.” Leo rolls his eyes. “He’s been coming to my door, wondering if I’m your latest hook up or if I knew where you've been hiding lately. Someone down the hall said you looked shady so they sprayed you with fertilizer and have been watching to see if you’d keep coming to my place.”

Apollo curses, remembering the old lady who sprayed him. When he gets his powers, he will have to smite her. Or just spray her with fertilizer and see how she likes it (though fertilizer is like moisturizer to nymphs. Perhaps he should burn up her grass or something. Yes, that seems fair.) “Do not answer if Eros comes by. If he does enough digging, he’ll discover everything you have to hide.”

Leo looks disturbed. “That’s… not exactly something I want. I’ve been living a pretty peaceful life, and I’d rather keep it that way.” Does Leo have something to hide? Apollo tucks the thought away for later.

“So you must help me turn back into a god!” Apollo says.

Leo shrugs. “I guess if I have to. I need something in return though.”

“Anything.” Apollo says earnestly.

“I need to find out what happened to Daphne.” Leo scowls. “Whether you know it or not, you might have some kind of clue as to where she is or what happened to her.”

Apollo swallows. He would prefer not to delve into the details between him and Daphne. But if it’s for his godship… he figures that some things aren’t worth being kept secret. “Fine.”

“Swear on the Styx.” Apollo shocked that Leo can suggest such a thing. Swearing on the Styx can lead to some heavy things. It’s not something one can do so casually.

Leo looks like he won’t help Apollo is he doesn’t. With a heavy heart, Apollo holds out his right arm. “I swear on the Styx to help you find Daphne.”

Leo clasps his hand. “And I swear on the Styx to help you gain back your divinity.”

Their hands burned as the pact is made. Apollo pulls away, cradling his trembling red hand. Why had the deal been so powerful? Apollo’s sworn on the Styx before, and it’s never felt like _that_. It’s like he had the power of the sun at his fingertips, and for the first time in his long life, it _burned_.

Leo’s staring at his burnt hand too, eyes wide. “I’ve never been burned before.”

Apollo’s hand won’t stop trembling. “Me neither.”

He wonder if maybe this is all a mistake. Just what exactly has he gotten himself into?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :) and so Apollo and Leo team up! hmm there seems to be quite a few hidden agendas and things going on...
> 
> also lmao 'olympstagram' im so funny and clever, y'all should appreciate me more XD

**Author's Note:**

> anyway, have a good day!!!!!


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